The Angel's Hero
by heythereitsrylan
Summary: In the state of Washington, high school student Mira St. Clair is caught between warring vampire factions, two members of which are fighting for her: Jasper, who wants to save her, and Jonathan, who would love to see her bleed. Jasper x OC.
1. Chapter 1

"My condolences, young miss." The old man behind the counter read the card and looked up with sympathy shining on his face. "I heard what happened to your father, and I'm so sorry about what happened."

"It's quite alright, Mr. Fitzgerald." The young girl offered a sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. It was getting harder and harder to fake that smile every day. "Thank you for doing the arrangements for us."

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, even though it was the middle of July. The world seemed colder these days. Ever since her father got sick, it felt like her world just stopped spinning. Mira knew that cancer was real, but it always seemed like a far-off, make-believe monster; she never imagined it would take someone close to her. In just the span of a week, he'd degraded so far, death almost seemed like a blessing. He was in so much pain in the end...

"It's the least I could do, my dear, your father and I were friends for years." The old man nodded, mostly to himself, and put the paperwork away. Behind him, rows and rows of colorful vases of every kind of flower lined the florist shop. It was such a beautiful display, Mira could almost forget why she was here in the first place. "What time will the service be?"

Mira snapped back to the present, blinking the delusion out of her eyes. "It's this Saturday at 9am." She tucked a strand of light brown behind her ear and frowned. There would be much more to prepare for before then. She reached inside her purse. "How much will it all be?"

He shook his head firmly. "Don't worry about it, Mir. Your money's no good here."

She smiled softly, eyes falling as her shoulders sank. As much as she hated feeling pitied, her father didn't have much in the way of money. As a freelance author, he didn't have a steady income, and although she'd tried to be frugal with the flowers, the displays still totaled up to a hefty sum. "Thank you again, Mr. Fitz, and I'll see you at the service. I have to meet with the caterer and the mortuary…"

"Of course, dear, take care." He scratched at his gray whiskers and frowned at the girl leaving his shop. He'd watched her grow up, and been good friends with Mr. St. Clair for a good many years. He took out the copy of her order with the details on it and stared at the total price at the bottom of the page. He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and put two neat lines through the numbers. Turning around to face the rows of flowers, he began gathering the blooms he would need.

* * *

Saturday came and went, with little more than a hiccup with the service. Mira's entire role was to sit at the front of the chapel and receive all the words of sympathy and condolences. She lost her father, and the most anyone ever said was 'I'm so sorry for your loss.' She wondered bleakly if any of them ever realized how empty their words sounded. Surely, they could hear the insincerity too, right? Looking out into the crowd of people seated in the pews, she saw a lot of familiar faces. How many of them had she grown up seeing? It could have been any other place, and seeing everyone would have caused her joy; here, it just added to the rocks weighing in her stomach.

A noise next to her caught Mira's attention. Beside her, an older woman with a black netted veil sat, sniffling into tissues. One hand balled up a lipstick-stained tissue, while the other was gripping Mira's left hand firmly. Her mother. How long had it been since Mira had seen her mom? A year? Two? Maybe she visited last Christmas, but Mira couldn't remember clearly.

"Mira," her mother stage-whispered to her between sniffling, "You're coming to live with me in Washington, right?"

The teenager felt a pang of shame. She hadn't planned that far ahead… She squeezed her mother's hand back in assurance.

"Of course, I am, mom," she said, and she meant it. After everything that's happened in the past year, how could she even think about staying. No, what she wanted most right now was to put everything behind her and start over somewhere else. "When this is done, we'll start making arrangements. I'll have to pack and say my goodbyes…"

She trailed off, trying to focus on the preparations. She would have to pack up everything she owned, and figure out what to do with her father's belongings. Her mother was a realtor in Washington, so she wouldn't have to worry about her father's estate, but everything else… it would fall on her to decide what to do with everything else. More specifically, her father's books and work.

With a sigh, Mira steeled herself for the last half of the service. It would be a few hours before she would go home, but she was already anxious to be gone. She was already thinking about everything she needed to do, what she would take with her, and what she would leave; more importantly, her father's belongings. A heavy feeling took over her chest at the thought of going through all of his things, to be in his room knowing that he would never touch anything in there again. What would happen to his favorite coffee mug, the one with deep brown stains in the ceramic? Or the pair of pajama pants that had holes all over it? He refused to throw it out, claiming that it was the most comfortable pair of pants he owned.

These thoughts made her sick, and instead, she put all her effort into listening to the priest, who'd made his way to the podium and had begun the service. Everyone quieted down and settled into their seats, attentive, and most importantly, away from Mira. She breathed deeply to steady herself, and concentrated on just making it through the service.

* * *

It was cold today, much colder than last month. Winter was fast approaching, and within another few month the roads would be slick with ice and snow. As she marched through the parking lot, Mira felt the sting of cold on her nose and the tips of her ears. Brushing back the light brown hair from around her face, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She hurried inside, where she could seek some kind of shelter from the cold. Adjusting the thin jacket around her shoulders, the thin girl sniffled and shoved the school's door open before scurrying inside.

She hurried to her locker, glancing up at a clock as she passed: 7:30. She shifted through her textbooks, a stack that had been unceremoniously dumped into her arms the previous day. Luckily, she'd remembered to grab her class schedule from her bedside table that morning. She skimmed it while she peered at her books.

 _Let's see… History first, Math, and then Art. After lunch, Philosophy and French._

Mira looked up, adjusting her hair once more so she could see the titles clearly. She pulled her history textbook out and then closed her locker. Turning her head, she looked up at the clock on the opposite wall: 7:45. She shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on a hook on her locker wall. The faded mirror on her locker door showed a gray reflection. She could just barely make out the different shades of hazel in her eyes, brown and yellow mixed together with green flecks near the inner edges. Mira pushed her hair back behind her ears, observing the way her earrings caught the light, just pale sparkles in the cheap rusted mirror. She licked her dry lips, now a pale pink color.

Now that she was inside and starting to warm herself, she had a moment to reflect on the whirlwind that her life has become. The smile fell from her lips, and she shoved her books into her bag.

After a week of cleaning, organizing, and packing, Mira and her mom had put the property up for sale, fully furnished. Everything that had belonged to her dad, Mira had insisted on packing herself. She didn't know what to do with it all, but she just couldn't bring herself to throw anything away. The books that he'd cherished and shared with her over the years, she made sure to wrap and box carefully, taking special care that they wouldn't be damaged during transport. When all was said and done, Mira had paced through the now empty rooms, walked the hollow spaces of the place that had been her home. Leaving felt like tearing out a piece of her heart and leaving it behind, just like how a piece of her was buried when her father was.

They'd managed to move everything in one trip, thanks to the trucks that her mother had rented. Even after all of this, Mira felt awkward around the woman that she'd grown so distant from. Things felt weird on good occasions, so going through this... it was like severing another relationship. They spent days driving, taking turns when her mother would finally admit she was getting sleepy. Neither one of them felt much like talking, instead opting for the radio that mixed pop songs with bouts of static. When they finally arrived in Forks, Washington, Mira was just glad of the chance to be alone. Her mom hadn't had the chance to set up a room for her, so the guest room was as close to hers as she could hope for. After a week of settling in, Mira decided to check out the shops nearby, and happened on an old store front full of dusty tomes. On an impulse, she submitted an application for part-time work. Maybe she'd hear back from them soon.

She sighed, clenching a fist around the strap of her bag. Nothing about this was easy; she lost everything in California. Her father, her home, her friends... none of it would be hers again, all of it was stained with the memory of his death. She felt the grief welling up again, but even stronger than before, she felt anger. It wasn't fair. It was stupid and childish of her to think so simply of these events, but that's the thought that circled her head like a shark, coming back again and again to stab at her heart. It wasn't fair that she had to lose everything; it wasn't fair that her dad had to die.

As quick as the anger had struck her, it was gone, fading as fast as it had come. Breathing again, she shook her head. Taking one last glance in the mirror, she made sure she at least looked composed. She certainly didn't feel it. Once she was satisfied, she closed the rusty locker door. Nodding to herself, she turned toward her first class and began walking.

* * *

"Good morning, class, I am your instructor: Mrs. Anche," A strict-looking woman made her way to the front desk as the tardy bell rang, "That's A-N-C-H-E. Welcome to American History. Let's start with the attendance."

Her eyes flitted over a spiral notebook, reading off names and glancing up at every response she got. Everyone was here so far.

"Mira St. Clair?"

Mira raised a hand timidly, uttering a near-silent "Here."

Mrs. Anche looked up, frowning in a way that looked very close to a sneer. "Speak up, girl, I'm old."

The rest of the students turned to look at her and Mira flushed under her lightly tanned complexion. The teacher cocked an eyebrow at her before returning to her task. When she'd finished, she turned a page in her notebook and began scrawling on the whiteboard.

"Today we're going to start at the beginning of American History, with the founding of the nation." She stated plainly, writing 'A New Nation' hastily on the board.

She smudged the last 'N' in 'Nation', and Mira frowned when she noticed it. Now she'd be staring at it the whole class. Frowning slightly, she flipped through the pages until she got to the right chapter. She pulled a notebook from her bag and turned to a fresh page.

The class was spent listening to Mrs. Anche rattle off facts and jotting down bullets. Everyone seemed to settle into a stupor, mindlessly writing important facts as they came up, and trying hard to not fall asleep. As the last ten minutes of the period ticked away, she began writing furiously on the board.

"With everything that you've learned today, I want you to pair up and discuss the following question." She finished her scribbling and turned to collect up her belongings. She tied up her long black-and-gray hair into a bun and took a seat, clearly ready to continue ignoring the students filling the class in front of her.

For a moment, everyone sat in stunned silence. Mira herself blinked a few times, before looking around at the other confused students. Realizing what they were supposed to be doing, she looked back to the whiteboard and skimmed over the question. Her shock must have been clear on her face because a moment later, a voice next to her read it aloud.

"In your opinion, who was the most important figure in the founding of the early American colonies?" A boy's voice read out in a bored drawl.

"Thank you," Mira murmured, scratching the question down at the bottom of the page. She glanced up at the boy next to her, and met tawny eyes staring her down.

Taken aback, she flinched and looked away. She bit back a "Sorry" and went back to her notebook. She snuck a glance at the boy who'd spoken and felt her lips part involuntarily. He was like nothing she'd ever seen before.

Long honey-blonde hair fell to his shoulders, accentuating the strong angles of his face. His lips were tinged a light, medium pink and were set into a blank expression. His eyes were nearly glowing in the limited light as they danced back and forth across the pages in front of him; a beautiful dark gold color. His hand moved with a practiced grace across the page. Without warning, he stopped writing and his eyes flicked up to meet hers again. Like the first time, his held no embarrassment, just a steady gaze.

The corner of his lips twitched up into a small smile. "Her handwriting is terrible," he whispered to her, eyes flicking to the front desk.

Mira tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled, all tension gone. "I thought it was just me. I'm Mira," she offered her hand.

He cocked an eyebrow and smiled almost imperceptibly before taking it. "Jasper."


	2. Chapter 2

At the end of the day, Mira returned to her locker, dialed in the combo to her lock and retrieved her coat and books. It had been a long day, made even longer by her distracting thoughts. Ever since she'd had her first class (the one with the serious-looking, honey-blonde boy) he was all she could think about. Everything about him made her heart stutter in her chest, and the heat rise into her cheeks. Even now, without him around, she could still imagine the slight cockiness to his smile, and the waves and shades in his hair. She could have sworn she could still smell the sweet air that swirled around him. Shaking her head to herself, she shrugged her coat on and tried to focus her attention elsewhere.

She inhaled deeply. Was she imagining the honeyed taste in the air? Exhaling, she closed her locker, books safely tucked away in her bag and under her arm. She rummaged in her bag for her car keys, a present from her mom who insisted on the safest SUV on the market this year. As she turned, she looked up, with the hairs on the back of her neck raised, feeling the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Looking around, though, she couldn't see anyone actually staring at her. Her brow furrowed in concern. Maybe she was just tired.

The drive home was uneventful, and when she finally pulled into her mom's driveway, she was grateful for the absence of her tiny red Prius. Mira was silently elated for the time alone. Ever since she'd moved up here, her mom had been constantly hovering. There were worse ways to parent, and it normally wouldn't bother her at all, but Mira hadn't been alone since before the funeral. She hurried inside and up to her room; at least, the room that she'd taken. The only personalized thing in her room right now was the photo collage she'd made of her family, that hung just above the dresser: family photos from when she was younger, and her parents still lived together; in recent years, just her and her father.

She paused, staring at one of the photos in particular. It had been her twelfth birthday, and her mom was dressed in a neat pantsuit. Mira was younger, but she still looked happy in the photo. Right after it was taken, her mother had had to leave. She'd been showing a house the next evening, and had to make the long drive back up. Looking at the picture now, Mira could only remember how upset she'd been, and how hard she'd tried not to let it show. She was sure if anyone else looked at it, they would swear she'd been elated. And they would be wrong.

Mira set her books down on the nightstand, and let her bag drop to the floor nearby. She dropped onto the bed, which was turned down neatly by her mother before she'd left for work. It felt like a stranger's room. Mira knew that she should be trying to feel comfortable here, but just being in Washington reminded her of the life that she'd lost. As she was lost in thought, her phone started ringing from the bottom of her bag. The teen started, not expecting the sudden noise, and shot up to grab for her phone.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Hello, may I speak to a Ms. Mira St. Clair?"

Mira frowned, not recognizing the voice. It sounded like an older woman. "Speaking. How can I help you?"

"Ah, good," the voice lightened, "I'm Mrs. Green, from Lost Pages. I was just reviewing your application, are you still interested in a position here?"

"Oh, yes of course!" Mira subconsciously straightened her posture. "Absolutely, when should I come in for the interview?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, don't be silly, dear. It's a bookstore, not a law firm. I'm sure a phone interview would suffice, wouldn't you say?"

Mira smiled to herself and agreed. Fifteen minutes later, they hung up, with the promise of a start date on the weekend. At least there were some good things happening, she thought to herself. Maybe with enough distractions, the next couple years may actually be bearable here.

* * *

The next morning, Mira pulled into the school parking lot as a certain blonde was arriving with what could only be his family. She couldn't help but stare; they were all unnaturally gorgeous. Any one of them could have passed as a model. Still, it was difficult to pry her eyes away from Jasper. His hair caught the light, almost shining even with the limited sunlight. He was dressed casually, wearing a simple shirt under a blue button-down shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. Just like before, Mira was absolutely star struck. Jasper looked up as they all walked across the parking lot, meeting her eyes. How long had he known she was there? God, she hoped he hadn't seen her staring…

Quickly, she bent down, busying herself with gathering her things. She almost forgot her thermos, which was filled with sweet, warm coffee. When she looked up again, Jasper was gone, along with his brother and sisters. She felt a pang of disappointment mixed with relief. She didn't have History today, which meant she wouldn't have an excuse to talk to him. At least she wouldn't have to risk embarrassing herself again until tomorrow, she reasoned with herself. Regardless, she needed to get to her locker and put up her books. She reached for the door handle and prepared herself to brave the cold winds. As she walked up to the school, she wondered briefly if Jasper's eyes had looked darker than usual today. Instead of the dark gold she remembered from her first day, they looked almost like deep brown. No, she must have imagined it. People's eyes don't change color like that. Maybe it just looked darker because of the clouds outside. She made her way inside and promptly put it out of her mind.

The rest of the week passed by without much embarrassment, and aside from the usual workload, school was surprisingly easy to deal with. She would rush through lunch, eating enough to keep herself from feeling hungry for the rest of the day at school, and then spend as much time as she could in the library. The quiet was the perfect environment for her to study in peace. When classes were over, she would take her time going home, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Cullens, Jasper in particular, on their way out of the lot. When she realized what she was doing, she would feel a sweeping sense of embarrassment, and hurry home.

With so much anxiety about the weekend, and so little to do with her time, it was no wonder it felt like a lifetime before Friday ended. Even with the promise of History class, and seeing Jasper again, Mira felt herself buzzing with excitement and impatience. After school, she'd be free for the weekend, which meant something else to occupy her time. Considering how little she had to do at home, it wouldn't be too hard to convince the manager of Lost Pages to let her work a few days during the week. She barely even tuned in during her classes, taking notes without much thought. Her focus was consumed by the concept of a new way to spend her time. A job would provide the means to pick up new hobbies to take up her time.

If she had looked up during History, she would have noticed Jasper staring at her curiously with darkened brown eyes.

* * *

School finally ended at 2:30, and Mira wasted no time picking up her textbooks and running to her car. With an hour to make it to work, she wanted to stop by at home and change. Jeans and a T-shirt were perfect for school, but they hardly said "professional". Instead, she opted for a plain navy blue A-line skirt and a dark blue button up. Passing the mirror hanging above her dresser, she noted her tousled hair and flushed appearance. She frowned, picking at a strand of her frazzled, mousy hair. A few more minutes working on her appearance wouldn't hurt. She dragged a brush through her hair, pinning it back with a plain barrette, splashed her face with water, and dried herself as she rushed out the door.

Twenty minutes later, she'd parked outside the bookstore. It may have been a quicker trip because of how excited she was, but she arrived exactly fifteen minutes early. Perfect. She grabbed her backpack and slung it up onto her shoulder. She took a quick breath, making sure her clothes were straightened, and strode to the door. A bell chimed, announcing her arrival.

"Hello." A bored voice came from the back of the shop. "Welcome."

"Hi," Mira cleared her throat, not expecting a male's voice, "I'm looking for Mrs. Green. Is she here?" For a moment, she was wondering if she were in the right place, despite having double-checked the sign on her way in.

"Oh." A teenage boy appeared from behind one of the numerous shelves, carrying a small stack of paperbacks, "You must be the new girl. Mika?"

"Mira," she corrected, taken off-guard by the boy's presence, "And I guess you could say I'm the new girl."

He said nothing, staring at her with a strange expression. She took the awkward silence to quietly study the boy. The first thing she noticed was his hair, which was strangely dyed a mix of white, gray, and black. It was long, and slightly messy. His face was set in a bored expression, with half-lidded eyes, and a slight frown. She felt her heart jump into her throat. He was handsome in a soft way. His face had a feminine shape, although his eyes formed hard angles. The juxtaposition of the two made her want to keep staring. He cocked an eyebrow and turned to put the books on the counter. He was tall, and looked to be around seventeen.

"The owner isn't in today, unfortunately," he said without looking at her, "But she told me I'd be in charge of training you. She'll be here tomorrow to handle your paperwork." He faced her with a wry smile. "You can consider this your working interview."

Mira blinked. Her face was burning. This was her trainer? She prayed she had made a good enough impression on him. Did he have to be so attractive?

"My name is Asher, by the way." He shot over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner. His voice faded out as he continued. "You can put your things in the back room for now; I'll show you how the shelves are organized as soon as I finish prepping this order."

With a sinking feeling, Mira dragged herself to the back. She'd hoped her first day would go smoothly. Was everyone in this town a secret model?


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a full week since Mira had started her part-time job at Lost Pages, and she could finally feel herself getting used to her routine. There was something about being lost among the books, surrounded by so many printed stories and documents that made her feel at home. Asher wasn't so bad either, once Mira had gotten the final go-ahead from Mrs. Green. After school, she'd spend her downtime at work finishing her homework and talking about philosophy with her coworker.

For History, she had to bring in a few outside sources on the Civil War. There was going to be a presentation on the generals that served in the war and duplicate ideas weren't going to be tolerated.

"Hey, Asher, do you have any books on the Civil War?" She looked up from where she was perched behind the front desk. Asher glanced away from the book he was reading – another poetry book, it looked like – and frowned.

"Civil War? That's such a boring subject, can't you find me a challenge?" He cocked an eyebrow but disappeared among the rows of shelves anyway. When he reemerged a few minutes later, he had a sizable stack of books cradled in his arms. "Here, everything we have in stock on the war. Why do you want to read about something so violent and meaningless?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say it was meaningless." She countered, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and pulling the first book from the pile.

"Millions of people died fighting for the same country. That's not meaningless?"

"They were fighting for freedom. One side was fighting for the right for other people to be free." Mira pointed out. "That's a noble cause."

"It's a stupid cause." Asher scoffed, going back to his book. "People died for something that should have been common sense. You can't own a person."

With a note of finality, he leaned back against a shelf and seemed to shrink away from the conversation back to his own world. The way his eyes drank in the words on the pages was mesmerizing. Realizing that she was staring, Mira pulled herself back to her work and began sifting through the books for anything that she could use.

When it was finally time for them to clock out, the sky was already dark. Asher waved nonchalantly as she unlocked her silver SUV. She waved back, not really paying attention, and got into the car, locking the doors immediately as she'd been taught.

She'd picked out a handful of books that Asher had suggested that now rested on the passenger seat. Looking over at them, she smiled at the boy's helpfulness. She started the engine and pulled out onto the road. Before long, she was on her way home.

Over the weekend, Mira focused on her studies and her work. Asher was a great companion for both. Despite her normal tendency to be reserved, she felt herself getting closer to him. It was nice to make a friend here, especially after losing so many friends in California.

* * *

After school one day, she found herself chatting more freely than she had in a long time. It all started with one question.

"I never did ask you before," Asher had started with a sidelong glance at her, "What brings you to Forks? Aside from the sightseeing, obviously."

She hesitated, marking her page before laying her book down. "It's a long story, I think."

"Well, you're in luck, I don't have anywhere to be for the next," he surreptitiously checked his watch, "four hours."

Her lips twitched in an involuntary, small, sad smile. Before she knew it, she was pouring her heart out to this guy she'd met not even two weeks ago. She told him everything, from her dad's progressing disease to leaving with her estranged mom. She spared no detail, and for the first time since the funeral, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable.

The sadness came in waves, and by the time she was done talking, tears had gathered in her eyes. Clearly, Asher hadn't been prepared for that, because he was visibly caught off-guard by the sudden welling tears and at a loss for words for once.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm usually not one for tears. It's just been so long since I talked to anyone like this, it's a little hard to hold them back this time." She shrugged, dabbing at her eyes with her shirt sleeves.

To his credit, Asher recovered quickly. "That's only natural. I can't even remember the last time I cried…" He trailed off thoughtfully.

"You're exaggerating." Mira laughed, shaking it off. "But thank you for listening."

She smiled up at him and went back to her book. She managed to narrow down her list of Civil War generals and was working through the names to find someone obscure enough to do her presentation on.

 _Ambrose Burnside, Winfield Scott, John Bell Hood…_

She froze at the next name.

 _Jasper Hale?_


	4. Chapter 4

"What have you got there?"

Mira jumped at the voice that appeared next to her and covered the page reflexively. "What?" Looking up, she saw Asher's face. How spaced out was she that she didn't even notice him walk over?

"You look like you just saw a ghost," he explained, trying to peek around her hand and check out what was on the page, "What are you reading?"

"I was just doing some research for my presentation," she said hastily, closing the book, and trying to forget what she'd just read. She glanced at the clock and internally sighed with relief when she saw the time. "Let's clock out, huh? I should get home before it gets too late."

Frowning, her coworker looked her over speculatively. After a tense moment, he shrugged and let it go. "Sure. I should get going, too."

She smiled with relief and packed up her bag. Asher waited near the door to set the alarm before they walked out. They parted ways on the sidewalk and Mira headed to her SUV. The winter air was brisk against her exposed skin and sent shivers crawling over her. She hastened her pace.

Once inside her car, she locked the doors out of habit more than anything and started up the heater, basking in the warmth that washed over her. Times like these, she missed California. The winters seemed friendlier and a lot shorter. As she pulled away from the curb, she didn't see her coworker peeking over his shoulder, watching her intently as she went.

* * *

The winding roads that led home were pitch dark. Mira found herself gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were turning pale. She hunched forward as if that would help her see clearer, but it was no use; the roads were dark as night.

It was slow going, so it was no surprise that she managed to stop in time as a deer limped into her path. The poor doe stared into the headlights, frozen with fear. Hesitating, Mira considered leaving it there. Didn't everyone always say to leave wild animals be? Was there any space to squeeze by it without hurting it? Leaning sideways, she peered into the darkness.

"No good," she mumbled to herself. There was barely any room as it was. She glanced at the clock displayed on her dashboard. 8:47. It was already so late… Tomorrow morning was going to be rough if she didn't get home soon, but…

Since it was already so late, would anyone else be driving along this road? Would anyone else be able to help this poor animal?

"What am I thinking?" She shook her head. "I must be out of my mind."

She unlocked her door and stepped out into the cold night. The deer was still frozen in the middle of the road, gazing intently at her now, fully illuminated by the bright headlights. From this close, Mira could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the slight shivering of her legs. The poor thing was terrified.

"Shh," the teen held out a cautious hand, edging closer, "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. You poor thing, what happened to you?"

Mira was close enough to see the odd angle of the poor animal's leg. It must have been in tremendous pain. There was blood dribbling down its flank from what looked like two parallel puncture wounds.

 _Someone's hunting this late at night?_

Nervously, Mira looked around. Was there even a hunting ground around here? Maybe it was an illegal poacher?

"Come on, girl," Mira inched closer, hand outstretched, "We need to get out of here. I'll take you to the vet on my way home. Come on, you need a doctor."

"My, aren't you so kind?" A drawling voice pierced the otherwise quiet night. "What's your name, little girl?"

Mira dropped her hand and turned sharply to face the edge of the woods that edged the road. A young man was stepping out from the tree line, brushing aside low hanging branches as he emerged. He had shoulder-length blond hair and was dressed in a black suit. His eyes were half-lidded, and he had an air of elegance about him.

If it weren't for the dangerous feeling emanating from him, Mira would have thought he was attractive. Instead, it was all she could do not to cry out.

Mira felt her heart seize up in fear. "Who are you?" Her voice was choked and came out as a whisper.

"Forgive me, my darling _,_ I meant no offense. I suppose it's only good manners to offer my own name first." He smirked, looking very much like a wolf. "You may call me Johnathan Sinclair."

Mira felt her skin crawl with nervous energy. Terror shook her heart.

"I don't want any trouble," she mumbled, feeling very much like the deer she'd been trying to aid, "I'm going."

In a split second, the strange man was standing in front of her. She could smell a mixture of mint and copper wafting around him. Mira couldn't look away, staring into his eyes as he smirked. He had pitch black irises, but looking closer, Mira could see they were ringed with deep red.

"Going so soon?" He asked in a honeyed whisper. "Why don't you stay for a while?"

Despite her pounding heart, Mira felt her lips move in agreeance. It felt like someone were speaking for her as the words tumbled from her lips. "You're right. I think I will stay a while longer."

"That's a good girl." Johnathan grinned darkly.

Everything in her body was screaming at her to run, get away from this man, but her legs refused to move.

"Let's go somewhere more private, no?"

"Yes," the words were pulled from her clenched teeth, "Let's go."

Tears were building at the corners of her eyes. She could feel the shadow of death hanging over her shoulders.

 _I don't want to die,_ she thought to herself. _Please, God, I don't want to die!_

Her eyes shut as tears squeezed down her cheeks. They were brushed away by icy fingertips.

"Don't cry, my dear." The man's voice was at her ear now. "It'll taste sweeter if you smile instead."

Against her will, Mira felt her lips curve upward in a sick imitation of a smile.

"Please," she begged, "Leave me alone."

He shushed her, gripping her chin gently. "This will be over quickly."

"Get away from her."

Mira forced her eyes open at the sound of the familiar voice. The fingers disappeared from her skin and she let go of the breath that she'd been holding.

The strange man was glaring at the source of the voice. She followed his gaze, daring a glance at her saviour. Stepping into the light was none other than Jasper.

"I said," he growled darkly, each word said from between clenched teeth, "Get away from her."


End file.
